


Dave: Realize That Dirk Isn't Bro

by silentconventionalweapon



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Anxiety, Dave POV, Oneshot, POV Dave Strider, PTSD, Second person POV
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-29
Updated: 2015-10-29
Packaged: 2018-04-28 19:25:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5102834
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silentconventionalweapon/pseuds/silentconventionalweapon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Okay dumbass, don’t fuck this up. Don’t fuck it up." </p>
<p> You repeat these words to yourself for several minutes (exactly three minutes, fifty two seconds, twelve milliseconds) as you approach his room. Even after arriving at the door, you pause, take a deep breath, think the words again in your head like some goddamn mantra, and then finally knock.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dave: Realize That Dirk Isn't Bro

“Okay dumbass, don’t fuck this up. Don’t fuck it up." 

You repeat these words to yourself for several minutes (exactly three minutes, fifty two seconds, twelve milliseconds) as you approach his room. Even after arriving at the door, you pause, take a deep breath, think the words again in your head like some goddamn mantra, and then finally knock. 

"Come in.” Quick. Inviting. Unexpected. Unnerving. 

You open the door, holding your poker face tightly on your thin lips as you move inside. Through the darkness of your shades, you can see the strangely bright room. Mostly white walls, messy bed, desk covered with scraps of metal and tools, loose nuts and bolts scattered around the room like confetti at a fucking birthday party. Your eyes scan the room until you see him, sitting on a stool, hunched over his laptop. His pointy shades are sitting on top of his matted blonde hair, and his eyebrows are furrowed in concentration. 

Fuck. He’s busy. This was a bad idea. You’re about to leave when he looks up at you. 

“Dave, what’s up?” he sounds cool and calm, like always. It makes you nervous. Well, more nervous than you already were. 

"I-I uh, just wanted to see what you were up t-to,“ you stammer- fuck, words are so hard to say when your mind is thinking a million different thoughts at once. "But you look busy, s-so…" 

"Nah man it’s fine,” Dirk answers smoothly, snapping his laptop shut. “I was just downloading some blueprints from Roxy. She wants me to make her some sort of 3D printing extension for her PC, or something…?” He pauses as he stands up to stretch his back. “I don’t fucking know. Apparently she can’t alchemize the exact shit she needs.”

"O-oh. Okay then.“ 

"Yeah dude I have no idea either,” he smiles softly, an expression you’re not accustom to seeing on that face. He sits down on his bed and waves you over. “What’s going on? You’ve got this look like you wanna talk about something serious.”

You eventually move towards him (after five seconds, thirteen milliseconds), sitting carefully on his bed, being sure to keep a safe distance between the two of you. You decide to stare at the floor rather than look at him as you speak, but make sure you can still see him in your peripheral vision. 

“Uh, yeah, I just…had a few questions I guess?” Shit you sound so fucking nervous, this is horrible. This was a bad idea. 

“Sure thing man, what’s up?” his voice is smooth and calm, and you’re jealous. 

“W-well, like…I know all that ectobiology shit is confusing, but you and I are technically each other’s brothers, right?” 

“Mhm,” he quirks an eyebrow and nods, waiting for you to continue. You feel like you sound like a fucking moron. 

“Well like, we had each other’s alternate selves as our guardians before the game, and I just…I don’t know,” you shake your head, suddenly wishing you hadn’t come here in the first place. “D-do you think we’ll end up like them?” 

“What do you mean?” he’s frowning, clearly confused. He moves closer, and you involuntarily flinch at the suddenness of it. He freezes, his tangerine eyes going wide as he seems to grasp what you were really getting at. 

Yeah, he definitely gets it. You can see it in his expression. Suddenly you’re terrified. 

“…Dave, I’m not like him,” Dirk’s voice is calm and even, but you can sense the undertones of hurt. “I would never hurt you, or anyone.” 

Your throat tightens, and you can’t make yourself speak, even if your life depended on it. But you think that’s actually for the best. His tone of voice is too familiar. Not quite angry, not quite upset, but somehow making you anxious, and it reminds you of the calm stillness before a storm. You blink behind your shades, trying to hold back frightened tears, though you’re not quite sure what you’re crying about. 

“Dave-” He touches your shoulder, and you flinch away as if you’ve been burned. “Fuck…,” he mutters, pulling his hand back and holding it up in midair. “What’s going on..?” 

You shake your head, staring at the ground. You start counting how many nuts and bolts you can see littered across the carpet. Seconds tick by, though you’re not sure how many because your internal clock keeps stuttering. 

He touches you again and- fuck! Shit you just smacked his hand away, harder than you meant to. He definitely looks hurt now, his eyebrows furrow in a twinge of anger, and you flinch, expecting a smack to the face. 

“What the fuck did he do to you…,” Dirk’s voice is a whisper, and it surprises you. 

You open your eyes and turn to him, almost surprised to see that his pointed shades aren’t on his face. His clementine eyes are full of concern as he stares at you. You reach up and remove your own shades, letting the shame and fear pour out of your own crimson eyes. You’re too tired to be strong anymore. Tears slip down your cheeks, and after one second and forty milliseconds, his arms are around you.

“Y-you just remind me of him, and I know it’s fucking stupid, but it scares me,” you’re whimpering like a fucking baby. Shit. “Cuz if our future selves are who we’re going to become, I don’t want you to be-” Fucking hell, your throat is tightening again, and you can’t speak. More tears slip down your cheeks and you’re weak, you are so fucking weak that it disgusts you. 

If your Bro saw you like this you would get a slap to the face and a kick to the gut. You would get a bruise for every tear you allowed to escape. Every instance of weakness was another wound. Thinking about it makes you sick. 

Dirk pulls back, his arms still resting carefully on your shoulders as he gazes at you, and there is a sense of protection and warmth in his body language, something you’re not used to. 

“Dave, I won’t ever be like him, I swear to you,” his voice is steady, and you can tell he means it. “I’m not your Bro, I won’t ever become him. I would never hurt you, okay?” 

You sniffle. Nod. Twelve seconds and twenty-two milliseconds pass before you can breathe again, and you gasp for air like a fucking fish out of water. You’re squeezing your eyes closed as more tears slip down your cheeks, and you’re not sure when it happened, but Dirk’s arms are around you again, holding you close. 

Whispers of ‘shush’s and ‘it’s okay’s and ‘I’ve got you’s make their way to your ears, and eventually calm you down enough. You body decides it can move again, and you wrap your arms around him, holding him tightly and never wanting to let go. 

You need this, as much as it pains you to admit it, it would hurt a hell of a lot more to go without it. You need to feel safe, and now that your guardian is gone, and Dirk is here, you know that you’ll finally get that chance.


End file.
